When I was in college, a male friend of mine told me a story: A guy he knew was about to hook up with a girl in his dorm room. The moment she took her shirt off, like some kind of Tourette's, he blurted out: "IDON'TWANTANYTHINGSERIOUS!"

At the time, the story was a riot. Now it feels more like a cautionary tale.

Dating is, by nature, immensely unnatural. Especially in New York, we're trained to be self-sufficient and aggressively unaware of other people to the point of sociopathy. We blithely step over puddles of puke on Sunday mornings. We ignore drunk girls teetering on platform heels and crying into their cell phones outside of bars. We barely notice when a guy's taking a crap in the corner of the F train. Needless to say, to actually sit face-to-face with some relative stranger who asked for your number at a party last week and make idle conversation about the book you just read, with a minimum one-hour requirement to spend with them even if they turn out to be horrible, is hell for some of us. (Okay, me. For me.)

Which brings me to my point. If you're single and have the wherewithal to put on pants, leave your house and go on a first date (harder than it sounds – congratulations!), The Early-Onset Disclaimer has probably happened to you more than once. At first, you probably think it's a coincidence. You've just barely just gotten your tapas, are nowhere near as drunk on Pinot as you need to be to feel less horribly awkward and self-conscious, and before you even talk about your siblings or where you went to school, the guy you're out on the date with is telling you he wants to break up. That is, not quite. But sort of.

"Just so you know, I'm going to Malawi to build a school for orphaned one-legged children. Like, eventually."

"Just so you know, I'm a ghost."

And then he floats away. Just kidding! Sort of.

Hey girl, he is trying to say. I will have sex with you, if you're desperate for it and do all of the seduction work, he is implying, but don't expect rapidly-returned text messages or any sense of responsibility from my end whatsoever. Oh, and don't refer to these as "dates." We're just "hanging out." Even when your mouth is on my penis. That's still just hanging out. You have been warned.

It's as if he assumes that you have visions of a white picket fence, a shared bank account and your shared gross, nose-picking kid in your head already. Instead of, oh, I don't know, a second date, then a third, then maybe sex, then if the sex is good, take it from there. That is to say, normal human expectations.

You watch yourself nod, but here's what you're thinking: This sucks a bag of dicks. I actually put on pants for this? Barefoot Contessa is probably on RIGHT NOW. You continue to carry on a normal conversation as if this didn't just knock you sideways. But take heart in the fact that you're not alone. What you've just experienced is the newest accepted phenomenon in modern twenty-something dating: The disclaimer.

The disclaimer is hardly new; I suspect it's existed for centuries. (Perhaps there's an undiscovered piece of parchment buried somewhere in Straford-Upon-Avon upon which Romeo warns Juliet during the Capulet Ball in Act I that he "hath goodly work at a start-up.") However, it's only in recent years that the disclaimer has become par for the course, and acceptable—expected, even—to throw at a potential romantic partner as early as possible, regardless of whether or not the recipient of the disclaimer has actually said whether or not she's even looking for something serious.

As if dating isn't difficult enough for women, these days, for whatever reason – maybe it's TV? – guys have become hyper-aware of leading someone on, and the douchebaggy implications thereof. In order to avoid that, they throw a roadblock on the table (I mean, literally, it lands on the table with a wet thud, like a dead fish) way, way too early.

And when you get a disclaimer, is that code for "I'm not interested?" Or should we take it at face value and simply proceed with caution? Or – gulp – might he change his mind and decide he has the so-called "time?"

I asked my friend Jack, a serial dater who just moved to Los Angeles, what generally goes through #ManBrain when he throws out a disclaimer.

"When I do it, I typically mean it. That's not to say that I haven't done it to spare a girl's feelings, but for the most part I say things like that when it's true. And I have changed my mind about it in the past. Where I've said I'm not looking for a relationship, only to find, "Holy shit. I don't care what I said, I want a relationship with you!" Though I wouldn't say that that's likely."

So the verdict: If you're unfortunate enough to be handed one of these irritating disclaimers, take it at face value. If you like spending time with him, or at least definitely want to have sex with him, carry on! But if you're looking for something more than a hang, you might want to look elsewhere. Or just come over to my house and watch Barefoot Contessa. That's cool too.